


Local Customs

by salable_mystic



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salable_mystic/pseuds/salable_mystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aral and Cordelia run into one of the time-honored-traditions-of-the-Vor(TM).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Local Customs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voodoochild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/gifts).



> I am probably screwing with the timeline a little with this one, sorry about that – all my Vorkosigan books are 500 miles away. I picture this taking place some time before the Soltoxin gas grenade attack and all the ensuing events, at any rate.

“Dear Captain, tell me again why we are doing this?” Aral asked, a look halfway between a laugh and a frown on his face.

“Because it’s apparently a tradition that has been neglected sadly in recent years, and you Barrayarans are very concerned with your traditions, including the ones that surround the autumn festivities. Plus, apparently Esterhazy’s wife thought it would be a nice gesture, part of making me feel welcome at Vorkosigan Surleau.”

“Esterhazy, hmm. Remind me to dock his next bonus,” Aral grumbled while looking through his dresser for his second house uniform sock. “Couldn’t they have just, I don’t know, given you a fruit basket or something? You’ve met them all anyway, you’ve been on Barrayar for some time now.”

Cordelia smoothed her gown over her ever so slightly bulging belly and laughed, “Of course I’ve met them all. But Madam Esterhazy was very insistent that it was a district tradition, and now that there was a Lady in the house again, and there going to be a baby soon, … apparently its something that our offspring will be expected to participate in, as well.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re so, hmm, how shall I put it …” she paused, devastatingly, for effect “ … less than enthused about the event?”

Aral frowned at her, though she could still see the amusement behind his frown, so she wasn’t worried about teasing him further about it, not yet – childhood memories were a touchy subject for Aral, for understandable reasons, and she was always glad when she managed to remind him of one of the less painful ones.

“I was very young at the time, and afraid of public speaking. It was not … an edifying performance on my part.”

She smiled at him lovingly and walked over to smooth down the lapels of his house uniform shirt. “Well, look at how far you’ve come. We can use our collective failures to provide edifying public performances as examples for our children that all adversities can be overcome, if only one applies oneself to it – should any of them need the encouragement.”

“Our children, hmm?” He murmured and drew her into his arms. “Now, I like the sound of that.”

She snuggled into his embrace, “Me, too.” They stood there silently for a while, studying their reflections in the mirror, before Cordelia drew away. “But speaking of children… .”

“Yes, yes.” Aral picked up his house uniform jacket from the dresser and shrugged into it easily. “Off to public purgatory we go, for our sins manifold and plenty.”

Cordelia laughed at him, and grabbed his hand to draw him out of the room. “My dear, I hardly think that the recently revived annual harvest thanksgiving play performed by the armsmen’s families’ children counts as purgatory.”

“Just you wait, my dear Captain, just you wait. It’s going to be perfectly gruesome. Adorable, no doubt, but gruesome all the same.” Aral laughed and allowed himself to be tugged out of the room.


End file.
